


Left Me Cold

by 19RosesofLifeandDeath98



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Ends on a Hopeful Note, F/M, Fluff, Ice Baths, Post-Endgame, Post-Movie: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Starmora, also did i mention that they're dorks?, because why not?, chapter 2 will be more angsty, i've become somewhat obsessed with these dorks, not super angsty but like just a tiny bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-02-29 03:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18769984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/19RosesofLifeandDeath98/pseuds/19RosesofLifeandDeath98
Summary: One time Peter walks in on Gamora and it's actually kind of cute.(one time she walks in on him and it's all sad and shit)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask me where this came from. I have aching bones and was taking an ice bath and was like 'yeah i could write about this.' Where do they get the ice? I don't know.

The mission had sucked ass. Yeah, it was technically a success, but it still sucked. The small land cruiser their client had provided for the mission ended up getting blown to bits, so they had to hoof it over the mountainous terrain on foot, all while taking heavy fire because _why the hell not_. Still, they all made it out alive, and their client hadn’t even tried to short change them on account of the destroyed cruiser, so Peter really shouldn’t bitch. He’s still going to, but he really shouldn’t.

His legs are getting stiffer with each step he takes and his lower back aches in a way he didn’t know it could. When they get off planet and back to the _Quadrant_ , after injuries are dealt with and they’re locked in orbit, Peter allows himself to disappear toward the back of the ship. There’s a private bathroom that he’s pretty sure none of the others know about, considering it’s still in livable condition. He’s literally fantasizing about a shower when he opens the door to find Gamora occupying the small tub. His brain short circuits for a second before he slaps his hand over his eyes.

“ _Gah_ \- shit… sorry.”

He braces himself for the yelling, but it never comes. Instead of barking at him to leave, Gamora just murmurs lazily, “It’s fine.”

This is so surprising that he risks opening one eye. Gamora’s are shut, her head resting against the rim of the tub. Peter thinks it says something about their relationship that she’s comfortable enough around him to not even care that he walked in on her. That makes him feel all kinds of shit, until he realizes that she’s sitting up to her neck in ice.

He blinks once. Twice. “Um… Gamora?”

“Hm?” She lifts a silver eyebrow.

“What are you doing?”

She cracks a smile, opening her eyes just to roll them at him. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

She says it like it should be the most obvious thing in the world and Peter almost laughs. He takes a few steps closer, replying wryly, “It _looks_ like you’re trying to pull a Captain America.”

That gets him a reluctant little smirk, the one she gives him when she doesn’t want to admit he’s funny. Then she’s looking at him earnestly, eyes taking him up and down. “Do people on Earth not take ice baths?”

Peter shrugs. “I mean, like… I don’t know. On purpose?”

Gamora ignores his obvious question and thinks for a moment. “I’ve heard it called cryotherapy before, too. Constricts the blood vessels and reduces tissue breakdown – in mammalians, anyway.” She gives him that same appraising look. “You should try it sometime.”

Peter pretends to consider it. “Mm… yeah, I think I’ll pass. Don’t want my junk shriveling into – _hey!_ ”

He recoils from the spray of ice water she flicks at him. He pouts comically, which earns a breathy laugh from Gamora that sends his heart racing. She settles back against the tub, eyes slipping shut. Peter takes that as a cue to leave, but before he can move a muscle, Gamora speaks up.

“My parents were field hands. Most of our neighbors worked on the same plantation they did.” She glances at Peter, eyes beckoning him closer. He scans the room and decides to just perch himself on the opposite end of the tub.

(It’s not like he can see anything he’s not supposed to. She’s literally covered in ice.)

Satisfied, Gamora continues, “It was hard work, sunup to sundown. Every night I’d help them carry buckets of ice into the house. They’d take turns, holding each other’s hands and venting about their day.” Peter’s whole body is warmed by the fond expression on her face, though it doesn’t last. Swallowing, Gamora looks pointedly at the wall. “When Thanos’ training… intensified,” her breath doesn’t catch, but there’s a microsecond of hesitation that tells Peter everything, “I started doing it, myself.” As an afterthought, she adds, “The body mods help with muscle regeneration but not with pain.”

Something twists low in Peter’s gut, a raw, animalistic hatred that rears its head every time Gamora tells him about Thanos’ abuse. It tells Peter to seek and destroy, to hunt down the son-of-a-bitch and divorce his head from his body. Eventually, Peter managed to get his emotions under control. He’s never going to stop caring about Gamora, and flying into a blind rage every time she mentions the purple asshole is not helpful.

Gamora shakes her head to re-center herself and it has the same effect on Peter. She fixes him with an easy smile that – while rehearsed – isn’t entirely forced. “It’s meditative, too. At least I think it is. May be good for that overactive mind of yours.”

She says _overactive_ like it’s the most endearing thing in the world. Peter bolsters. “Well that overactive mind is what makes me so good in battle.” And just because he can, because he’s an idiot and she accepts him anyway, he leans in and whispers, “also in _other_ areas.”

She splashes him right in the face.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter needs to stop differentiating between _this_ Gamora and _his_ Gamora. There’s only one. The Gamora with them now is the same warrior who risked everything to protect the universe, the same woman who had the strength to endure years of torture only to empathize with others. She may not have the same experiences, but she’s the same person at her core.

His body seems to know that, the way it aches for her touch, the way it’s soothed by her presence. His body knows her, knows that this _is_ the real Gamora. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t think to move when she walks in on him mid-ice bath.

She’s definitely not as comfortable, eyes zeroing in on the floor. “Sorry.” She says tightly. “I need to speak with you about the mission today.”

She’s totally respectful, but the formality hurts. Gamora used to know his body better than anyone, maybe even himself. This distance, physical and emotional, cuts him to the bone. He shakes it off, though. She doesn’t need that kind of guilt on her conscience.

He says simply, “Yeah, sure. I’ll be out in ten.”

Gamora nods, turns on her heel and (to his surprise) freezes. Two… three heartbeats pass before she faces him again, actually meeting his eyes.

“That…” she gestures to the tub, “Is that… common on Terra?”

The memories weave around his heart and pull until he can’t breathe. Memories of them talking, holding each other’s hands as the minutes tick by, sometimes competing to see who could stay in the longest.

Peter swallows. “I don’t know.”

Something in his face must give him away, because Gamora’s features immediately go lax with understanding. Then she’s tense, which is the natural progression of these revelations.

“Did she-” Gamora catches herself, “Did _I_ tell you about it?”

Peter nods. “You told me about your parents and the plantation they worked on. You told me about your training, how intense it was.”

The response he’s come to expect is Gamora’s stifled horror at the thought of revealing something so personal to him, but that never comes. Instead she’s passive, simply mulling over what he’s just said. _This is better,_ his damn optimism chimes, _We’re getting better._ He waits for her to speak again. When she does, her eyes are so soft, so familiar, he nearly gasps.

“I always found it meditative.” She says, curious, “Do you?”

Nostalgia punches him in the chest again, but he recovers. “I’ve tried.” He shrugs.

Gamora nods. “You think too much.” Then quickly adds, “ _Sometimes._ Others, I’m certain you do not think, at all.”

Despite everything, Peter smiles. Gamora’s always had that ability.

“It’s all part of the Star Lord Method.” He says, not even trying to be taken seriously.

Gamora scoffs fondly and rolls her eyes. “Of course.”

The almost-laughter between them dies and they’re left staring into each other’s eyes. Gamora searches his intently, and Peter tries to be as open as possible, let her take whatever it is she needs. There’s a flicker of… something, and then her lip is twitching up in the faintest smile.

“Find me in the hull when you’re done.”

Peter bobs his head and she slowly moves toward the door. Her head turns just slightly, like she almost looked back but stopped herself. When she’s gone, Peter is suddenly aware of the ice, again. He takes a deep breath, tries to ride that wave of optimism churning at the back of his thoughts.

He’ll find her, whoever she is now. He’ll come to know her the way he once did, and she’ll know him, in time. He’d been lucky enough to find his family the first time, even more so to piece it back together. There’s no way he’s losing her now.


End file.
